Service Station
by Stumble
Summary: Tom shows Angela the miracle of beastility. Rated M.


Tom leans over the table, which is filled with uneaten holiday food, his eyes bright, curious, as they study the red-eyed woman who trembles across from him. "Are you..?" His tongue slides out from his lips and wets them briefly. "I mean, are you all right?" He turns his head side-ways a little. "You look a little tense."

Angela nods quickly, then stops, biting her lip.

"You dont have to be..." he breaks himself off with a sighs, running a hand across the back of his neck. "...scared of me...you know..." With a wounded expression, he reaches his hands over and snatches hers before she can put them in her lap. His fingers lace with hers, tighten, and she squirms in pain. "I would never cause you grief on purpose, Angela. I'm not like other men."

She whimpers, then says with a venomously snarl, "Get your _fucking_ hands off of me!"

He laughs softly, letting go. He points a finger at her. "You are tense!" His smile widens. "Hey, wait here- I have just the solution that will loosen those nerves of yours. Okay? Just bare with me." He stands up quickly and walks over to the mini-fridge in the corner of the Christmas-ornated office, and begins shuffling things around inside it.

Meanwhile, the woman jerks at the heavy coils of metal around her legs. They dont budge.

He removes a spray-can of whipped-cream, then walks over to Rockie, who lays in the direction of the chained up woman, waiting for orders to attack. Tom begins unchaining the dog, saying, "Me and Rockie do this whenever we feel hot on the heels after a long bad-guy-good-guy chase. Heheh." He walks back to the table of lavish food and grabs the back fo his chair. He drags it out in the open so Angela can see what he is about to do, then he sits. To her horror, he unzips his pants.

Swallowing hard, Angela is at a loss for words as he proceeds to remove his dick and gives a silent comand for the dog to sit between his legs. "What- why are you- that's wrong..." Angela mutters at last, her heart racing in disgust.

But he ignores her, shaking the can before pressing the button. With a fizzy _shhhhhh _sound, the whipped-cream is smothered all over the shaft and head of the dick. He puts the can down, and smiles at Angela as Rockie immediately starts licking the cream.

"This is -ahh...One way to relax. I'm sure you'll-" with a pleasured shudder, Tom leans back in the chair, eyes closing. "...enjoy it if I let Rockie do you."

"You're disgusting..!" replies Angela fiercely.

"No, you're just saying things you dont mean because you're-auurrh...upset." He opens his eyes and looks at her. "I'll let you have a turn next. I promise."

"Fuck you."

"Yeah..." he agrees in a moan.

Rockie's long, drooling tongue slaps and wiggles along the man's penis, slupring up every white substance he can see.

"Good boy, Rockie." praises the man weakly, feeling himself straining to cum. He waits a little longer, relishes in the bliss as the dog takes his time on the head of his member. "Yes...Yes..." Then he releases, the heated mess gushing out onto the floor.

The dog bows his head and begins to clean it up, his tail wagging slightly at the extra treat.

"Damn good dog...!" gasps Tom, grinning. He sits up straighter, panting a little, and says to Angela, "Rockie did a good job, dont you think?" He wipes the sweat off his forehead, then gestures to the floor. "Look how much he got out of me! Well," he acts shy, "not as much as _you_ could get out of me."

"I would _never_ do that with you." She corrects herself. "I will never do _anything_ with you."

"Tch, tch, tch..." He stands up, gently putting his limp dick back into his underwear, then he walks over, zipping his pants. "Then maybe you'll do Rockie a favor. He was very good with his service on me, so I think he deserves to be serviced by you as a reward."

"Hell no." she hisses. "I will kill you. I will fucking k-"

Tom frowns so threateningly at her that she quiets, and he tells her, "Why do you talk like that towards me? I've been nothing but nice to you. Hell, I'd die for you, Angela. I love you so much, but you dont even..." he sighs, taking a knee. "You'll have to learn one way or another whose in charge here, Angela." He begins unchaining her. "I know this is going to be hard for you, but I know you can do it."

As soon as she's freed, she leaps up and runs to the door.

"Stop or I'll shoot!" shouts Tom.

She stops, turning with wide eyes.

He holds a gun to his head.

"Wh-what are you doing...?"

"I love you." he tells her. "If you leave me, I _will _go after you, and I _will_ punish you for leaving. I dont want it to come to that. So please,_ stay_."

She walks over slowly, tears in her eyes. But not for him. Out of her own self-pity. She just wants to go home...

"Now," he points the gun at Angela. "Go lick my dog. Give him a good time."

She turns to the dog, who stands up and begins to growl. His grows deepen and rumble the closer she gets to him. Standing Several feet away now, the dog is nearly foaming at the mouth.

"Please dont make me do this..." she whispers, unable to look away from the dog's bared teeth. "Please..."

"Angela, come on..." he rolls his eyes. "It's just a dog- what can he possibly dog? He's never hurt a fly."

The dog takes a step towards her, his lips shaking, snout wrinkled. Body coursing with the desire to kill.

"I cant." Angela says flatly. "I'm not doing it."

Tom waves the gun in irretation. Why did she not trust him? "Angela..." he says.

Rockie barks, a cluster of foam plopping to the floor.

In fear, she turns and runs to Tom. She falls into his chest, her arms wrapping around him, her lips finding and melding with his. She kisses him with as much passion as she can muster, but it is only her passion to live.

She knows that, by kissing him, he may change his mind and forget about the dog entirely. "Thomas..." she breathes, her voice unsteady, every fiber of her being telling her to stop, to run.

"An...Angela..." he puts the gun on a high shelf above him, then wraps his arms around her, holding her. He kisses her back, smooths out her dirty, bloodied hair, and wipes the tears from her face. "You finally understand..." he says, sounding on the verge of tears.

Breaking from a kiss, she throws a hand up and grabs the gun, saying, "Like hell I do!" and she jabs it into his chest and pulls the trigger.

As Thomas falls backwards, his hands reach out to her, fingers clasping dead air. He hits the floor hard, his senses being knocked out of him.

Sobbing in horror of what she's done, Angela flings the gun away from herself, then wishes she never had.

Behind her, she hears the savage growling of the dog, but she doesnt even have time to turn before she feels his teeth piercing into neck.

End


End file.
